


lonely hearts club

by pandoracorn



Series: DR Birthdays 2018 [11]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Beginnings of a relationship, Detective Noir-inspired AU, F/F, PI!Kirigiri, birthday fic, i haven't expressed my love for fukagiri like ever so here it is, journalist!fukawa, non-despair, obv lmao, they do become girlfriends eventually though i promised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 16:17:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13861452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandoracorn/pseuds/pandoracorn
Summary: january to december, do you want to be a member?--It was an odd paradox, being both the investigator and the investigated.





	lonely hearts club

**Author's Note:**

> I BARELY MADE IT IN THE GMT TIMEZONE FUCK YES
> 
> partially inspired by 'Lonely Hearts Club' by Marina and the Diamonds!! that's such a fukawa core song I'm glad i found it when i did otherwise i don't know what the FUCK i woulda shat out

_ young woman in her early 20’s, dedicated to working on private business. an expert on cutting-edge technology, willing to take a stab at anything new. looking for a partner engaged in the latest news, and is willing to tolerate a case-by-case basis dedication to work. _

 

Fukawa pulled the newspaper away from her face and blinked before squinting at the ad again. She knew that looking for a relationship in a newspaper was the least likely place to get information, but still… whoever wrote that must not have been as they described. ‘Private business’, the easily distinguishable, out-of-place code - if it could even be called as such - and the specific criteria of being news-savvy? Not to mention the private number at the bottom. ...Her pool of information on the case she had been chasing for so long had run dry, and despite her already knowing it’s answer, she didn’t want to throw the towel in just yet. It was, after all, the case of the Bloodbath Fever killings that had gotten her this high in the agency to begin with. She gritted her teeth, circled the private number listed on the bottom of the odd lonely hearts ad, and picked up her phone to dial in the number, listening to the phone ring a few tones as she twirled the cord between her fingers.

 

Genocider Syo, the name given to the killer behind the Bloodbath Fever killings, had been plaguing the streets on Japan for almost 6 years now. They were a serial killer with an interesting MO that almost everyone knew about, and attractive (both in the eye of the public and their own) men lived in fear of. Known for their targets and their method of killing, Syo had been the target of the police from the very first case they committed, and though they came somewhat close to the truth, Syo always seemed one step ahead, and so, they’d been chasing a thread being pulled by some sick bastard, leaving them all just one step behind, every time, along with the bodies of many Japanese men in the wake of the same string, bathing in the crimson blood it spilled.

 

Touko Fukawa, the name given to a semi-famous journalist from the Kyoto Times, had been having panicked blackouts for almost 6 years now, and almost always woke up bathing in the crimson blood spilt by hands that both were and were not hers.

 

The ringing down the phone finally stopped, and the silky voice of a woman answered; “Kirigiri Detective Agency, who is this?”

...Just as she thought. One, that the ‘private business’ was too vague to be anything unimportant, and that the ad itself most likely wasn’t written by the woman described. “T-Touko Fukawa, of the Kyoto Times-”

A short, snappy sigh. “I have asked your company to block this number and not ask for ‘inside scoops’ or however it’s referred to as-”

“N-no, no, this is… a personal call. I’m replying to… to your a-ad.” She looked at the newspaper placed on her desk, to the words underlined and the number circled, all crude, rushed and in red pencil.

“...Ad?” A confused reply, and the subtle sound of a hand moving to the mouth of the phone, muffled speaking barely audible under the grip. Suspicion doubly confirmed - Fukawa let herself smile a little at that one. Kirigiri soon came back, though, and she seemed… rather calm. “Right, well… though I had no knowledge of the ad itself, it’s purpose still remains. May we meet at the park… Fukawa-san?”

“A-ah, ah, alright.”

“Excellent. I shall see you there A-S-A-P.” And with that, the line went dead rather swiftly, and Fukawa placed the phone back on it’s stand and stared for a moment. ...Had she misinterpreted the signs? The girl’s replies were flawless, and showed no crack in them at all, to an almost suspicious degree, but at the same time, even from just her voice alone, Fukawa could tell this was the kind of woman who was not one to make a mistake. ...Had she just been asked on a date by a private detective? She hid her flushing face and muffled her momentary giggles at the very idea, before coughing and gathering her things, checking that the braid she’d rushed to put in that morning looked somewhat presentable before grabbing her satchel and leaving her office, the plaque reading  _ ‘Touko Fukawa; professional current events reporter’ _ gleaming in the artificial lights.

 

Winter wasn’t exactly cold this year, but it was cold enough to make the journalist shiver and wrap her coat around herself a little more. Though she wasn’t exactly in the park, a girl of vague familiarity (Fukawa had seen her lingering on the opposite side of police tape at some of the Syo crime scenes) stood outside it, hands in her coat pockets. Fukawa swallowed cold, frostbitten air, before making her way over slightly faster, watching as the girl with the violet hair looked up, her face both lightened and darkened by the street lamp she stood under.

“Fukawa-san, I’m assuming?”

“S-so I take it you’re Kirigiri, then…”

She nodded, before pulling her hand out of her coat and holding it out. “Here. Let’s go.”

“P-pardon…? You’re really just going to resort to p-public displays of affection… just like that…?”

She frowned for a moment, before reaching out and gently taking Fukawa’s hand, taking it off of her coat and locking their fingers together, before leading her into the park, along a path that was covered in a thin layer of frost, holding their joined hands slightly behind them out of respect for Fukawa’s clearly flustered face. Surely, this had to be a plot of some kind, right? Surely, she wasn’t this forward of a woman, was she?

 

Perhaps so, because it took her a few minutes of them walking to say otherwise, stopping under a willow tree before she finally let and took a few steps back.

 

“...If I may be so bold, I have things to discuss with you.”   
“...R-regarding…?”

“You should know, you were the one who read the signs. Set up by my…” she sighed, clearly not wanting to refer to the person as such, but not able to find a word as suitable. “...assistant. The Bloodbath Fever killings. Who do you think the identity of Genocider Syo is?”

Fukawa swallowed more winter air, grabbing onto the over-shoulder strap of her satchel on nervous impulse.

“You should have at least some idea, right? You are a journalist following the killings after all. You report on each murder as soon as you can, careful not to step on the police’s toes… but Syo has a scheduele to kill, just as you have one to report on their killings. Opporating more on weekends, and after average working hours through the week. Tell me… when do you get off of work today? It is the middle of the week, after all.”

“...” She looked down at her hands, noticing they were shaking now, her head getting a little light from the stress - was this a migraine, or a sign of something else.

“Contrary to the scenario you’re probably running through your head right now, I don’t plan on making an arrest on you yet. I know you are Syo, but seeing you here, I… cannot seem to figure out how, or why.”

“I-I thought you were a detective for hire, surely s-skills like that would be required for your k-kind.”

“Perhaps. That I cannot deny.” Kirigiri took a step forward again, placing her hands - the journalist saw she was wearing gloves, though they were not the winter kind, but a purple leather instead - on top of Fukawa’s, as if to quell her shaking. “But regardless, without this evidence, I cannot formulate a solid case or conviction. ...If you’re cooperative, I will see to it that charges are lessened. And maybe… ah, no, that’s not my place to say.”

Fukawa looked up slightly, watching as Kirigiri did the same, their eyes meeting for a moment before Fukawa forced a shaky, flustered smile. “A-are you saying maybe the ad wasn’t useless, t-then?”

“Not totally. Foolishly worded, obvious and contradictory to what I wanted from that man, I cannot say it was totally in vein. ...Can we discuss this over coffee? You can talk at your own pace.”

Fukawa had no intention of revealing anything at this stage - or any stage, mayhaps - but coffee with this woman sounded at least tolerable. 

 

Plans were made, and so, maybe, the 6-year murderous rampage was going to reach its final act, hand in hand with a purple detective with a lonely heart.


End file.
